Letter for the grass (1)

11.04.2020 / Worthing, UK


Nothing like the fresh air of the state approved walk to temporarily escape the familiar walls of your home. And every day I walk my dog around the same park. It takes 15 minutes to walk there - I’m not sure it’s the closest park to me, but it’s near my old house - the one I grew up in. Last December we moved 10 minutes away, though because my auntie and uncle live opposite we still see it and consequently the new owners ripping it apart. Anyway, maybe that’s why I prefer walking in this park to the other one.

Today on my walk I noticed they had put up these notices about not mowing the perimeter of the park. I thought the little signs stuck into the ground looked quite funny, and there’s something about signs that just appeal to me. Their whole purpose is ‘Look at me. I’m important. I have information.’ Like they demand to be read, even when you’re not sure you need to know said information. Or maybe I just feel this way because walking in the same place every day is getting a little bit repetitive.

Either way, I did feel compelled to read the sign, and, walking home after seeing it I couldn’t stop thinking about the grass being left to grow (how exciting!), right next to the grass that will - that must - be maintained, whilst the public exercise their freedom to walk, run, cartwheel, or whatever they else they do. The grass I wish my dog would crap on (inevitably she will choose the longest grass available.)

As I will continue my walks, I will continue to observe this grass. I will continue to think about it far more than grass arguably deserves (though I have since discovered quite a few poems about grass so perhaps I am underestimating its importance). Besides, it will make a change thinking about all the people I see walking around. So, grass, I dedicate this to you, may you grow and do whatever the hell grass does.


Jenny Brown



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